Tales of the Silent Night
by Robotic Draconian
Summary: "You sleep rather soundly for a murderer." In the dead of night, within the invisible walls of Nirn stands many natives. But only few are spared from the hands of the Dark Brotherhood, even fewer are made a part of their 'family'. Here we tell the story of the Silent Night, of an adventure of Lucien Lachance in his youth and of how he became a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood.
1. Prologue

Prologue

_The moon's shine was dull, shadows extending beyond the reach of human sight. The only sound was that of the guards steel boots hitting stone pavement. Their attention was lulled by the silence of the night, the lack of information of what lied beyond the city walls. Even the captain didn't notice as a body dropped from the ceiling, the soft leather shoes barely made contact, let alone a sound. The guard looked up from his desk, feeling his impending doom. Steel rubbed on leather as the black-draped man's knife was drawn. The guard realized too late what was going on, as his jugular was cut, keeping even the slightest noise from coming out of his body. The assassin grabbed the captain and gently placed him on the ground, as to avoid any commotion._

_The desk was locked and required careful work to raise the tumblers, but it took barely a minute for this careful workmanship to be completed. The subtle _click _said that the drawer was ready to be picked clean. He gently grabbed ahold of the iron handle and gently pulled, making sure to dull the sound of rust on rust as much as possible. He slid his hand in and pulled out a blood-stained envelope. Its contents were none of his concern. His target had been eliminated and the delicate information retrieved. He quietly slid the drawer closed and grabbed the captain of the guard. He delicately propped him up in his chair and put the corpse in a sleeping position, the arms lying crossed on the desk, head lying gently on top. It wouldn't buy much time, but it would give him enough time to completely disappear from the city._

_He quietly slid out of the window, climbing the roof and sneaking off, never making a sound. He reached the final house, barely three feet from the city walls. He looked down and observed the gate, but noticed that there were two alert guards keeping watch. The assassin smirked, finding humor in their lack of defense. He took a leap from the house and grabbed onto two spaces in the wall. He quietly scaled the wall, quietly crawling onto the walkway. He stopped as he spotted a guard heading in his direction. He stopped only half a foot away before he turned and leaned on the wall, looking out to the distance. With great speed, the assassin decided to send the foolish guard to his grave, covering his mouth as he thrust his knife straight into his spine. Barely a gasp was muttered as the guard was thrown to the ground, blood spilling onto the walkway. Without another sound, the hooded figure hopped over the wall, landing gently on his feet. He quietly skulked off back to where he belonged: the Sanctuary. _

_...  
_

Shadowmere clopped gently up to Cheydinhal, its hooded rider viewing the area around them. Lucien didn't care much for the old city, nor any of its people. He came here for only one reason: his 'family', the Dark Brotherhood. He left Shadowmere at the stables, to be tended by the stableman. He dismounted from his companion and made his way into the city.

He wafted through the town, avoiding eye contact with the towns' residents. His attire was strange and his aura menacing. The guards barely registered his presence, and the townspeople avoided him. He walked up to the abandoned building completely unnoticed. But instead of walking in through the front door, he walked around to the back of the building, over to a well. With a quick, but attentive search, he unlocked the sealed passage and slipped in, silently moving down the ladder that would lead into his home, his sanctuary.

He walked by the skeletal guardian, not even giving a second glance as he made his way into the very back of the hidden lodging. He walked past fellow members as he reached his goal, the person who he must return to so that he may report the status of his job: Vicente Valtieri. The vampire had been part of their 'family' for around two-hundred years now and was known to all members who resided in Cyrodil.

Lucien pushed open the steel doors, to see his 'brother' relaxing in a chair, awaiting his return. "You have returned. I hear the captain lies dead in his office, nothing taken, and only one other guard killed. Though, if that was true, you would be in a very...dire situation." The vampire let a smile touch his lips at his own remark.

The hooded assassin pulled out the bloodied enveloped and handed it to the Executioner*. It was soon taken from his grasp and opened. Vicente pulled out several papers and smiled, content with the results. He slid the papers back in and closed the envelope. "Good work indeed, brother." From his jacket, he pulled out a leather sack and an old scroll. "For your impressive work, and crucial assistance, I give to you, your reward: a sack of gold, and a scroll of telekinesis."

The Assassin took his reward, gently stuffing them within his robe. "I give all to the Brotherhood." He solemnly declared.

Vicente nodded, "As you should. But there is no time for rest. I have yet another contract for you. Consider this...a test. A test of your skill, dedication and...enthusiasm, for the Brotherhood." The vampire smiled, keeping his motives as vague and unclear as possible.

Lucien squinted, as if it would help him see through the mystery and uncover the meaning behind his superiors' words. "I do not understand...but I will not hesitate. I will accept this contract, and this test."

The vampire nodded, "You may yet find the answer by the end of your journey. For this will require you to leave the boundaries of the empire, and to journey to the land of the Nords: to Skyrim."

"What contract is important enough for me to have to travel all the way to the snow-capped icelands of Skyrim?" Lucien now had more of an idea of the importance that this contract held, if he was to travel outside of Cyrodil.

"You are to travel discreetly to the town of Riften and meet with a special contact. You will meet with a very _unique_ elf, Salms Dalen, they call him. He will be waiting for you at center of the town, in the marketplace. I'm sure you can find your way there yourself." The vampire stood, pulling from his pants, a silver seal with a lion's head emblazoned in the middle, two crossed swords imprinted on the back. "You are to show him this, to prove your identity." He handed the seal over to Lucien, making sure he had it safely stashed away in his robe. "Now go, my brother. When you return, your job completed, you will be greatly rewarded."

Lucien nodded, not another word spoken as he headed back out into the main chamber, taking no notice of any of his 'brothers' or 'sisters'. He silently climbed up the iron ladder, opening up the entrance and quickly climbing back out, into the city of Cheydinhal. He locked the well and headed off to the stables.

...

With a new task at hand, his sites set on the city of thieves and beggars, he reined in his dark companion and rode off, not a sound heard but the wind in a howling night.

To be continued...

* * *

*A ranking in the Dark Brotherhood.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It had been an agonizing trip. Lucien had ridden for over a week with little rest, food or water. Shadowmere clopped through the snow, step after step, closing in on their destination. Rider and Horse were covered from head to toe in the blissful white blanket, unaffected by the chill of the falling snow.

The assassin had only one thing on his mind: his future target. He was to be left in the dark until he reached Riften, and this displeased him. An assassins' greatest weapon – next to his knife – was information, and he was severely lacking in it at the moment.

He looked up, hearing voices up ahead. Shadowmere was silent in the mountainous cold, so it wasn't at all difficult to sneak up to the inhabitants. Once he was close enough, he departed from his companion and started making his way towards the voices. No need for needless killing, but his blade was beginning to dull and he needed a chore to wake himself.

It didn't take long before the campfire was visible. Smoke rising carelessly into the air, revealing the campsite to all nearby creatures. This would be a simple task for the assassin.

He snuck up to the campsite, now able to make out some of their features: three fully-armored Nords. They were all quite large, their blonde hair flowing freely in the cold, only restricted by the iron and steel caps two of them were wearing, one finding his head thick enough that no helmet was needed.

Lucien, in one swift movement, slid his knife out and stuck the steel-helmed one straight in the neck, quickly felling him. Before they could even react, the assassin was already on the move, slicing at the helmless Nord. But, unfortunately, the Nord had fallen backwards, avoiding the knife.

The iron-helmed Nord grabbed his battle-axe and started swinging ferociously in Lucien's direction. The assassin skillfully dodged, sidestepping the berserker-like actions and slicing at the warrior's arm. He hit the underside of the Nord's bicep, making him drop his axe. Before he could react, the dagger had been mercilessly plunged into his neck. With a small push, the body smashed into the snow, dislodging itself from the assassin's knife.

The assassin spun around, to face his last opponent, but was met with a steel mace to face, knocking him into the ground. He struggled to get to his feet, a mindless darkness overtaking his mind. He held his dagger loosely in his hand and stood slightly crouched, prepared to dodge.

The Nord charged again, swinging his mace savagely at the assassin. Lucien didn't trust his current footwork, so he decided to use the knife and parry. He plunged the mace straight into the snow before he elbowed his opponent in the throat, pushing him back. Then, using that instant, Lucien sliced the man's nose straight off before stabbing his steel blade into the Nord's left armpit, puncturing his heart. As soon as Lucien pulled his knife loose, the man stood for only a second before he fell into the snow, motionless.

With his current set of foes lying dead at his feet, Lucien walked back over to his companion and reined him closer to the fire, so they could warm up. There was plenty of cooked meat for both companions, and they willingly devoured everything available.

After having their fill, Lucien put out the fire and got back on Shadowmere, knowing that it wouldn't be safe to stay near a campfire, as creatures could easily be attracted to the smell of the meat. Without a word or action Shadowmere took off, Lucien riding comfortably upon his companion.

...

With Riften in sight, Lucien made sure to double check and make sure that he had all that he needed: mostly the lion-emblazoned seal. With the sound of clopping on soft grass, the assassin rode up to the city of thieves, leaving Shadowmere at the stables and proceeded into Riften.

The guards left him well enough alone, barely giving a couple of uneasy looks. No surprise about that though, since he was dressed the way he was. A black-hooded robe stands out and so did the presence he gave off. Without a word, Lucien headed for the market. It wasn't difficult to find, as he only had to walk a little to spot a circular area with several stalls set up.

Walking casually into the ground, he immediately spotted a Dark Elf selling strange items. Might as well start asking the elves first, since he'd be more likely to find who he's looking for.

He weaved through the city without making a sound, making sure not to bring too much attention to himself. He acted as if he was interested in the man's wares, making sure there was no one listening when he spoke. "Would you happen to be Salms Dalen?" He had ridden for a near ten days and didn't want to waste anymore time being subtle.

The Elf looked up at the man, a look of discontent spread across his features. "Depends on who wants to know?" He crossed his arms and bent forward, resting his arms on the stall's counter-top.

Lucien pulled out the Lion-Emblazoned Seal. "The Dark Brotherhood." He stated.

The Elf held out his hand, nodding. "Very well, then I'm the Salms Dalen you're looking for." He had gone down into a whisper, not wanting anyone to hear. "Look, we can't do this here. Just hand me the Seal and we can discuss the specifics of the contract tonight. Meet me at the stables tonight and I'll explain everything there."

Lucien handed Salms the seal, "Very well." Lucien had been handed a bag of gold from Salms to make it look like a normal transaction. After stuffing the gold into his robe, Lucien walked off.

...

Now that he had met with Salms, Lucien decided to go look around the town for any interesting leads that would benefit the brotherhood. Just to pass the time. He felt his robe become a bit lighter and soon realized what had happened: his pocket had been picked. He looked around and saw a shifty-looking person quickly walking off. He immediately knew that it was him who had taken his gold. As soon as he started walking towards the man, the pickpocket ran off, his hood covering any noticeable features.

Lucien ran after the man, gaining on him, after herding him into an alley. The thief ran into the alley, not even thinking about whether he had lost his pursuer. He made a quick check and then opened the bag of gold, starting to count how much he had grabbed. He didn't even hear the dagger being drawn, or see the shadow that was approaching him. Without any hesitation, Lucien slashed, getting rid of both the man's eyes. The gold didn't matter, because he had plenty. It was to send a message: don't steal from the Brotherhood. He left the alleyway without sound or sight being left behind.

...

The chase hadn't taken long, but it did pass a little bit of time. The Assassin had also gotten a chance to use his dagger again. He decided to see what he could get off one of the beggars, so he sat down on a box that was next to the one that one of the street rats. He handed the Breton several pieces of gold. "Tell me about the happenings of this town, my friend."

The beggar took the gold gratefully and immediately nodded, understanding that he was being paid for information. For the next hour the beggar, who's name was Faric, told him about the Thieves' Guild and of the members. He spoke of the rich, the poor, the warriors, the fishers, the imports and exports of the merchants, the killings and the shakedowns performed by the guards, and everything in between.

With all the information that he needed, the assassin stood and silently walked off. He now had more insight of the town and decided that he might as well wait in the shadows outside, while he sorted out all of the information.

...

With a clear view of the stables, Lucien situated himself under a tree, sitting down in the shadows, where he waited for night to fall upon the city. No one new had come to the town and very few people left its walls except for guards and the stableman.

...

As the sun finally fell and the moons rose, Lucien stood, walking over to the stables and standing in the shadows, not letting anyone see that he was now waiting for his Elven contact.

It was another thirty minutes before Salms had finally appeared, wearing a set of steel-plated armor. He was looking around warily, making sure that no one saw him. He walked over to the stables and called out in a whisper. "Assassin, where are you? I know you're watching."

"We are always watching." Lucien stated, walking out of the shadows. Salms jerked, a terrified look in his eyes for a moment, but he quickly calmed down. "Now, speak of this contract, quickly if at all possible."

"Right, right, the contract. You shall have your target, but not here." He walked over to a white horse with brown eyes and wearing a leather saddle. He jumped up, straddling the saddle and looking at the assassin. "Follow and I shall show you the destination of your target."

Lucien cocked an eyebrow but decided not to argue, as this seemed to be an important contract for the brotherhood. He jumped on Shadowmere, following as Salms had his own horse started clopping away.

...

The two had been riding for several hours before the Elf finally stopped. He departed from his horse and looked over at Lucien, "We walk from here." He stated, starting up the hill that they had stopped at.

Lucien didn't say anything as he got off of his companion, leaving him by the base of the hill. Shadowmere would be fine by itself, but the other horse was a different story. The trudged up the sloping ground. When they finally reached the top, Salms got looked over at the assassin and pointed off where they were heading. "Up ahead is a special ruin. Its been overrun by bandits."

"This is my contract?" Lucien squinted, knowing that that couldn't be it if it had enough importance to send him all the way from Cheydinhal to Riften.

"You must kill every bandit in there. Especially their leader, Hodlin. But don't be fooled, just because he's a Nord doesn't mean he's stupid. Hodlin is very strong and very cunning. That dreaded Nord and his pesky gangs have been getting in my way in several of my efforts to acquire a relic. I need you to end them. Come back when your job is finished. I'll be waiting here. If you're not back by afternoon tomorrow, then I'm leaving and considering you dead."

Lucien shook his head in irritation. There had to be more than what he was being told. But instead of arguing, he decided that knowing wasn't important, as long as this contract benefited the brotherhood. Walking off, Salms sat down under a grouping of trees and behind a couple of bushes.

...

The night was beginning to fade, as Lucien started to make out shapes near the entrance of what looked like Nordic ruins. He crouched in the shadows, stalking closer to his destination. It didn't take long before he spotted a Nord in iron armor guarding the entrance…too easy.

The steel knife barely made a sound as it was drawn from its sheath. Grabbing the tip of the blade, Lucien pulled his arm back and threw it with great force. The dagger plunged deep into the Nord's neck, right between the helmet and the chest plate. He hit the ground, his armor smashing into the rough rock, denting the ground and armor.

The crash made quite the noise, so Lucien stayed in the shadows for several minutes, until he was satisfied that no one was coming. He crept over to the body and removed his knife, keeping it in his hand, just in case he had to get into a battle.

He silently opened the old stone door and crept into the dark ruins, darkness completely enveloping his body. Without a sound, the assassin closed the door and disappeared into the darkness.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Silently crossing over the old stone floor, listening to the _drip drip drip_ as water pellets hit a small puddle that was slowly overrunning the floor, Lucien had seen nor heard any bandits as of entering the Nordic ruins. He thought it strange, but ventured in deeper and deeper into the unfamiliar ground.

Even though it was probably morning by now, the sun having raised over the snowy tundra known as Skyrim, the assassin moved unseen. Staying in the shadows and hugging the walls, the Imperial not even daring to make a mistake. The importance of this mission was still clear in his head – he would not make a mistake, nor show up empty-handed.

As he skulked down a corridor towards a door that would lead him into the next room, he began to hear chatter. He quietly got to the door and silently compressed his ear to the wooden frame, barely able to make out the words that were spoken.

"I swear, I feel like someone is watchin' us. Laugh if you want, but I'm not staying in here any longer than I need to." A gruff voice stated, his voice seeming to echo – as if he was wearing a helmet.

"Oh, quit complaining, you baby. What could possibly happen? There are plenty of us here to take care of any Draugr that might wake up and we're skilled enough to take on any one that tries to get in here. So just relax." A female voice replied, trying to reason with the man. Her voice came in more clearly, which indicated that nothing was covering her mouth.

_Foolish woman, remaining so calm. I think it best to teach them a lesson._ Lucien slowly pushed open the door, peeking through the enlarging crack. The room seemed to be completely circular, surrounded with book-filled shelves, and only one other passageway, at the other end of the room.

With measured steps, the assassin found his way behind a shelf without either of the thugs noticing. He snuck around to the other side of the room, now having a clear path to the door, and the next part of the ruins. But, he couldn't let these two live, so he waited.

After several minutes of silence the man turned towards the door and looked back at the woman. "Hey, how long has that door been open?" This question alerted the woman as she cursed under her breath and drew her sword.

"Stay here and watch my back. I'm going to go check it out." The man nodded, pulling out his two-handed, steel broadsword, nervously looking around. The woman slowly walked over to the door, keeping her sword in front of her.

With the seconds that it took the woman to get to the door, Lucien had already popped out from behind the bookshelf he was using as cover and snuck up behind the man. He silently pulled his dagger up to his neck and sliced. Before the body fell and clanked, Lucien was already out of sight.

The woman closed the door and sighed in relief, "I guess we just forgot to close it." She turned around, hearing the body smash to the ground, suddenly shrieking as she viewed her companion lying dead on the ground. She nervously held her sword up, as if to ward off any presence that was close by. "Wh-what the hell is going on?" She looked around frantically, trying to spot anything that would've caused this.

"_Your lives are forfeit…" _Lucien's voice echoed around the room, terrifying the woman. _"You shall soon join your companion…and Sithis…"_

"Sithis?" The woman stood petrified as she sorted everything out. "Shit, the Dark Brotherhood!" She immediately made a run for the door on the other side of the room, so she could inform the rest of the group, and hopefully escape with her life. But as she neared the doorway, Lucien stepped out, dagger drawn, blood dripping from the blade. His smile shook the woman to the core, freezing her in place for a second. But after that second, she charged, making one desperate attack.

With ease the assassin stepped out of the way of the sword swipe and sliced, cutting her jugular and causing her body to go limp, slamming her into the stone ground.

Lucien wiped the blood off of his dagger and continued on, deeper into the cavernous ruins.

...

It didn't seem possible, but the ruins seemed to get darker and darker the deeper Lucien went. Even with the sun already out of view, less and less light seemed to be getting through.

He thought that there would be many more enemies that he would have to deal with. But so far, there had been no more than the three that he had dispatched. As he went down another flight of stairs, he began to smell a rotting scent. He silently sniffed the air for a minute or two before deciding to just continue going until he found out what it was.

Within a couple of minutes he got his answer. Corpses lying all around. He saw that there were bodies of both mercenaries and…Draugr. Blood stained the floor and dismembered limbs were scattered all around. Most people would have gagged at the sight, but not Lucien – or any other member of the Dark Brotherhood, for that matter, – he relished the sight of so much death, just a little disappointed that he hadn't been the cause of it all.

He licked his lips, dagger still in hand as he traveled deeper still, hoping to find survivors. _Wouldn't be right if this 'Hodlin' was slain by some Draugr then by the person who was paid to kill him._

...

The bottoms of Lucien's boots were soaked in blood, as the floor had been nearly flooded with it. It was almost enough to make the assassin sick. He blocked out the putrid scent, focusing purely on his task at hand. As he started down another flight of stairs he noticed that a small trickle of blood had started its way down the old steps. He also spotted dabs of blood, shaped like boots, making a path further into the ruins.

Simply following the blood, it didn't take Lucien long to find more of the bandits loitering around in a room. This room was however, different from all of the former rooms. There were strange symbols carved into the walls, and a lever in the middle of the room. On the other side of the room was a gate blocking passage further into the ruins. Lying dead in front of the lever was one of four mercenaries examining the symbols, trying to discover their hidden meaning.

Lucien snuck into the room undetected and examined the body of the dead mercenary. Another Nord, muscular, long blonde hair, blue eyes, wearing iron armor, carrying a steel sword…and peppered with arrows. He looked left then right, seeing holes in the wall that the arrows probably shot out of.

With a silent breath, Lucien snuck up to one of the mercenaries, pulling back on her hair, revealing her neck and dragging his blade across her unprotected jugular. He then lowered the dead woman's body silently onto the ground. He turned around and made sure that neither of the bandits examining the other wall had noticed.

The next part was easy enough. He rushed at one of the two, knowing that if he killed one of them, the other one would've noticed in their peripheral vision, whether he did it quietly or not. Without hesitation Lucien stabbed his dagger into the neck of the mercenary wearing steel-plated armor. Before the last mercenary, who was wearing fur armor, could draw his axe, Lucien was already on the move. But, instead of killing him, the assassin smashed his fist into the bandit's face, turning him around and knocking the axe out of his fumbling hands. Within that next instant, Lucien had his dagger up at the Breton's neck.

"Where's Hodlin?" This was all the information that the assassin needed, and he was willing to bet anything that the bandit chief wasn't among the corpses sprawled throughout the ancient tomb. "Your life depends on your answer…"

The bandit immediately got the message and didn't hesitate to speak. "H-he went through that passage over there," He pointed over to the gated area. "but after he walked through, the gate came down. I swear!"

Lucien nodded, "Very well…" That statement calmed the Breton, making him think that he would survive. But that thought – and all others – were put to rest and Lucien drew his dagger against the man's unprotected neck, his body falling limp as blood spurred out, smashing into the ground with a light _thud_.

Lucien cleaned his dagger on the fur armor the bandit was wearing and sheathed his weapon. _Now then, lets see if I can't figure out this little puzzle._ He turned around and started examining the wall, just as the bandits had been doing a mere minute ago. Except for the fact that Lucien could actually decipher the runes into their intended riddle:

_Beyond the river lies the snake._

Beyond the sky lies the hawk.

Beyond the earth lies the bear.

And beyond all others lies man.

An easy enough riddle for the assassin. He turned around seeing three pedestals: One which was sitting in a fairly large puddle, one which was exposed to light thanks to a hole which revealed the sky and also the final pedestal was simply sitting on plain earth.

He walked over to the first one, lying within the water. He turned the pedestal until it was showing the carving of the snake. He then walked over to the one covered in sunlight and turned it to the hawk carving. Finally, he walked over to the normal one and turned it until the bear carving was showing. He looked around for anything that might refer to the final passage of the riddle. He saw nothing else worth mentioning and simply went on and pulled the lever. The gate opened up, nothing else seeming to halt his progress.

Without hesitation, Lucien stepped through the passage, suddenly feeling a flux of energy. Without warning the gate closed behind him. _And beyond all others lies man._ Lucien sighed, deciding that he would find a way out after he completed his job.

Continuing his way through the cavernous tomb, Lucien felt the air becoming thicker, his lungs working overtime to keep him conscious. _What's going on?_ He could've guessed if his mind was working correctly, but unfortunately he would have to meet his adversary without preparation.

...

After fifteen minutes of walking it became easier to breathe, his mind clearer and his body overall stronger. Whatever he had stepped into had passed, or he adjusted. Whichever it was, it didn't matter, as the assassin had his senses back to their original state.

He began hearing a voice…no...voices. He crept along the wall, hugging the shadows. As he rounded the corner, he spotted a man dressed in full-body ebony armor, carrying around a claymore. He had to be Hodlin. There were Draugr scattered all around him, their weapons scattered haphazardly across the passage. The man was screaming at a statue, and the statue was…replying.

"That wasn't the deal, you worthless piece of troll fodder!" Hodlin screamed. "I went through that damnable place and found nothing. I lost over a dozen of my men, and you expect me to just leave?! Damn Daedra and your pathetic pup!"

'_The deal was made and you did not bring success from your side. I owe you nothing. But I believe you owe my dear Barbas and myself an apology.'_ Given the clues: _Daedra_, _deal_ and _Barbas_, it was simple enough to figure out that the one Hodlin was speaking to was Clavicus Vile, one of the Daedric Princes.

"Curse you, you damn Daedra! I should've known better than to get involved with your vile kind!" He was already at the edge of sanity, and it wouldn't take much more to completely break him. The result would either be him breaking down or going on a complete rampage: both worked to the assassin's favor.

'_Vile? Perhaps…But, are you one to speak? You kill, you rape, you plunder. You are no better than I…' _Clavicus seemed to of stopped speaking, but only for a moment. His next words made things much more difficult for Lucien. _"Nor is Sithis' pet, who is still hiding in the shadows.'_

Hodlin turned, fear in his eyes, while Lucien stepped out of the shadows. "Pet, no. Servant is more appropriate." Lucien stated confidently. He looked Hodlin dead in the eyes. "I would've preferred to do this quietly, but I suppose I must take you head-on now." He drew his dagger, his eyes resembling those of a wolf about to take its prey.

'_You wish for a deal, human? Then kill this pest and you shan't need that relic for our deal to be complete. Though, it's not much of a deal that you can really refuse, now is it?'_ Without anything other then a few muttered curses, Hodlin took hold of his claymore and drew it from its sheath.

Lucien smiled, taking confident strides towards the bandit. He planned to finish this quickly so that he could return and finish this contract. But, Clavicus had other plans. Hodlin was stronger, had a strong set of armor and a powerful weapon in his hands. While the assassin was just that: an assassin. His clothing would give little to no protection, and his dagger would do very little against ebony.

But Lucien didn't care, because it didn't matter. He had a contract to complete and would have to do everything in his power to complete it. He now had time to assess the situation and knew that he would have to bluff half of what he was about to do to come out victorious.

Hodlin started off strong, making quick powerful slashes at various parts of Lucien's body, making sure that he kept no pattern, but also making sure that he wasn't just swinging his sword around like some child playing soldier.

Lucien jumped back, doing all that he could while his opponent was still running strong. It would be difficult, but he planned on dodging and maneuvering until his opponent ran out of strength and could no longer use both his speed and strength to overpower the agile assassin.

Lucien rolled out of the way as Hodlin swung with a great amount of power, planning to decapitate his opponent. Instead of taking off the assassin's head, all he managed was to get his sword stuck in the wall. Lucien swung at the Nord's leg, but to no avail. The ebony was to tough to get through with a simple steel dagger.

As Hodlin finally managed to dislodge his sword from the wall, Lucien jumped a couple feet away, finally spotting something that could be used: an ancient warhammer that had been used by one of the fallen Draugr. _Too heavy for me to use effectively…with my bare hands, anyway._

His hands slipped into his robe, searching around until he found what he was looking for: his scroll of telekinesis, which had been given to him not two weeks earlier. He quickly unrolled it and translated all the information into his mind. It was an easier formula to understand since it was only temporary, but Lucien could still use it effectively in his current situation.

The energy gathered up in his hand, stopping Hodlin in his tracks. _Just another fool, afraid of what he doesn't understand._ He took several steps forward. "I believe it's time to end this charade, and for you to join Sithis." The statement seemed to set something off in the Nord, as he charged with a feral scream. Lucien rolled out of the way, immediately thrusting his arm out and aiming the energy at the warhammer lying on the ground. Between the weapon and the assassin, stood Hodlin. Without hesitation, Lucien pulled the hammer from the ground and smashed it into Hodlin's helm. It didn't just dent the helm, but it also seemed to cause quite a bit of internal damage as he saw blood begin to poor. But that wasn't it for the attack, as the hammer levitated in front of the assassin.

Before the scroll ran out of energy, Lucien thrust the hammer forward, smashing it right back into Hodlin's face. This time, the bandit was knocked into the ground, neither moving nor making a sound. But, that wasn't satisfactory for the assassin. He needed to make sure. He walked over to the hammer and then over to his fallen opponent. He kicked off his enemy's helmet and took stance. He pulled the warhammer over his head with both hands and struck down with a powerful, two-handed blow. Blood splattered everywhere as the Nord's head exploded into a gory mess.

Lucien let the hammer fall from to the ground, his hands still numb from the force of the shockwave that had coursed through his body as the hammer struck first skull and then stone. He also noticed that said stone had been cracked and slightly cratered. Lucien sat down to rest, his job completed…

'_Well done assassin. Perhaps you would like to add one more item to your list of today's accomplishments?'_ Clavicus Vile spoke strongly and confidently.

…Or so he thought.

To be continued…

* * *

**Thank you 'Velvet-Clad' for the review. It got me really pumped and allowed me to write the second half of the story in half an hour.**


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

'_Well done assassin. Perhaps you would like to add one more item to your list of today's accomplishments?' _Clavicus Vile spoke strongly and confidently.

Lucien looked over at the statue that represented the Daedric Prince. Sighing, he got to his feet. "I have no business with you, nor would I accept any terms that you had, even if I did have a task involving you." He knew Clavicus' game: make deals with humans that they end up regretting. But Lucien knew his place, and being one of Clavicus' playthings wasn't it.

'_You're an annoyingly strong-willed one, aren't you, assassin.' _Clavicus stated more than asked. _'And you may not have anything that I desire, but that elf does.' _Lucien rose an eyebrow, the action hidden under his cowl. _'You have already completed your task. He is no longer needed. Bring him here…and kill him. Further instructions shall be given from there.'_

"As I said: I will not accept any terms that you have." Lucien replied. "Besides, what the elf holds is none of my business."

'_Oh, but what I desire is what you recently held.' _Lucien turned, an annoyed look on his face. _'Turn around.'_ Lucien decided that he would humor the prince and turned around. But when he did, he saw nothing but a wall…with a perfect circle carved in, and a small circular hole about an inch deep in the very middle. _'That emblem opens up that gate there. I assure you, that was is behind that door is much more valuable than anything that mortal could give you.'_

That last statement finally piqued Lucien's interest. "So, you wish for me to bring him here, kill him and take the emblem, afterwards I will put it in that gate and acquire something much more than what he could give?"

Clavicus began to chuckle, _'Precisely.'_

"What if I refuse?" Lucien knew that the Daedra relied on tricks, Clavicus not being one of the exceptions to that rule.

'_Then you may spend the rest of your nights in my presence, trapped behind that gate that I will never allow to be opened.' _Clavicus continued chuckling at his own remarks and plans.

Lucien sighed, "So, I have no choice but to accept. But wait…what if I agree and don't come back. I just send him in alone?"

'_Then I suppose that the deal couldn't be completed. And perhaps I could make a deal with the elf to destroy your little band of assassins.'_

"Then what if I killed him and left?"

'_I have many followers, child of Sithis, and many shrines. This would be a simple task for me…So, do you accept my terms?'_

He didn't like it, but Lucien would have to do as Clavicus said. He knew well enough of the Daedra's trickery, and finding one of their Sanctuary's would be child's play for one of their princes. "Very well. I shall return shortly." He turned around and headed back down the passage he had come through.

'_Of course you will…'_ Clavicus' vile laugh echoed throughout the ruins.

...

Lucien reached the gate and as he approached, it reeled up and allowed him to pass. He didn't hear it close as he got out of ear's reach. He had to backtrack through the entire tomb, past every stone, casket and corpse, so that he could leave.

Walking up the stairs leading to the entrance, he couldn't help but think the same thing that he had been contemplating since he had left for his task: _Why me? What's so important about this task? _He pushed open the door to the ruins, rays of sunshine immediately hitting his eyes. He squinted, pulling his cowl down further upon his face, blocking out as much light as possible.

It took several minutes of walking, but he finally reached the hill where Salms Dalen had been resting. The elf looked up and saw the assassin walking towards him. He jumped to his feet and ran over to the assassin. "So, how did it go?" The anxiousness in his face was easy to read.

Lucien looked up slightly, revealing one of his eyes, the other hidden under some of the folded cloth of his hood. "Hodlin lies dead, and so does every other bandit that remained in that accursed tomb." He slipped in the word accursed because of the presence of the Daedra prince, though Salms didn't seem to notice at all.

"Splendid!" Salms yelled in delight. "Well then, I guess your job is complete and you are no longer needed. You may return to your precious home and receive your payment." He walked off, towards the ruins, a disturbing grin plastered on his face.

As the elf disappeared from his sight, Lucien began following, staying in the few shadows that remained. Without a sound, he followed, the elf never seeming to even take notice of his presence…or his own demise.

Salms walked up to the ruins, looking down and nodding in satisfaction at the corpse lying at the elf's feet. He pushed the doors opened and ran in. With great speed, Lucien seemed to almost fade into the darkness of the tomb, his entire body entering the darkness, just as the doors closed behind him.

...

Salms seemed to get only more excited with each corpse he passed by. As he reached the room where the still-open gate stood, he made a remark about the assassin's 'workmanship', but then quickly proceeded through the entrance. The gate didn't close, and Lucien didn't follow until he could no longer hear the elf's footsteps. He did this because, once he stepped through the gate, it closed with a loud clang, and he didn't wish to be discovered because of some gate.

Proceeding quickly, but quietly, to Clavicus' shrine, Lucien approached just as he had done when looking for Hodlin: staying in the shadows and hugging the wall. He began hearing Salms' voice as he approached the statue.

He wound around the corner, seeing Salms completely ignoring Clavicus and searching his bag for something. Eventually he pulled out the emblem and prepared to put it in the slot in the wall. Not willing to allow this, Lucien unsheathed his dagger, took it by it's point, pulled back his arm and launched. His steel companion flew through the air with great speed and lodged itself in Salms' neck.

Salms dropped the emblem only a second before he crashed into the ground, his blood pool joining the pool of blood that had belonged to Hodlin. Lucien walked over to Salms' corpse and picked up the emblem, then dislodged his dagger from the elf's neck and sheathed it.

'_Splendid work, assassin. He never saw it coming.' _Clavicus' voice echoed through the hall, and so did his laugh. _'Now, do as he was about to and slip that emblem into the wall.'_

Lucien looked at the statue and squinted, "What's the point of me doing this instead of that foolish elf? You must surely be planning something."

Clavicus simply laughed at Lucien's question. _'You will see soon enough, Child of Sithis.'_

Lucien – knowing that he wouldn't get anymore answers out the Daedra – slipped the emblem into the wall. The assassin stepped back as the emblem let out a dull shine and the wall began moving. It twisted and turned before finally rising and splitting apart, revealing a very large chamber.

Taking careful steps, Lucien didn't know what to expect nor that he should've been more prepared for what was about to occur.

The chamber itself was very large, spacious and round. But, after the opened wall, there was nothing but a bridge over a dark abyss. At the end of the bridge stood a platform, a staff levitating in front of a sealed coffin.

Lucien took careful strides, as to avoid falling to his, assumable, doom. It took less than ten seconds to clear the bridge and reach the platform where the staff stood – or levitated. The assassin simply stared at the staff, not sure if this was the reward that Clavicus had spoken of.

'_Take what you have earned, assassin.'_ Clavicus' voice echoed through the chamber clearly. Lucien knew that he would regret what he was about to do, but he reached for the staff. The staff was made of a foreign material, a large diamond – radiating with great power – floating right about the shaft.

As Lucien's finger brushed against the shaft he felt a very strange presence, his reflexes immediately kicking in. He jumped back away from the staff, but to no avail. The coffin burst open with such great force that the door flew the air, seeming to phase right through the staff and smash right into Lucien, scattering the stone cover into several large chunks. Lucien, on the other hand, was still in one piece, having been thrown over the edge of the bridge. He frantically threw out his hand caught the edge of the bridge, using all of his upper body strength to keep himself from falling.

He looked up, his eyes shooting open in surprise, amazement and…fear. What now floated above the bridge, staff in hand, staring directly down at him, was something he had never even imagined to have been true: a Dragon Priest. The decayed body stayed unmoving, levitating half a foot above the bridge. The eyeless sockets seemed to not only look at Lucien, but _through_ him as well.

The priest's decayed body let out a dull light, similar to the shine that the emblem had let out when slipped into the slot in the wall. Lucien's mind started becoming hazy. But instead of losing his grip, it only became tighter, as visions were implanted into his mind.

...

_Fear, anger and hatred. These were all that he had felt in his final moments, as he was dragged away and thrown in the coffin. He had been trained just as every other priest, nothing special about him. Except for what he saw: the plans that he had uncovered. They wouldn't allow him to live. They would never allow him to feel peace._

_He had never felt such fear as when his two superiors shoved him into his stone prison and his third superior had prepared the staff: which would act as his lock. He was paralyzed, his body unmoving as they shut the coffin, darkness completely taking over._

_His oxygen ran out within minutes as he screamed for someone to help him. He heard a loud noise, as if stone had smashed on stone. He didn't know what was going on, and he didn't care. He just wanted his misery to end, but he knew it would. Even if someone was able to wake him, he would be nothing but anger and hatred, wanting to take revenge on the world that had cursed him._

...

Lucien understood what was to happen: the Dragon Priest would leave his tomb and head out to kill those who had caused his misery: the people of Skyrim. The next image that had been thrown into his mind was the worst thing that he could imagine: the destruction of the Dark Brotherhood. The priest had somehow connected their thoughts: their memories, knowledge and feelings. What Lucien had received though, was only the man's last moments, as that was the only thing that kept the body going now, while the decayed man had learned everything about the Dark Brotherhood that he had known.

As Lucien tried pulling himself up, unwilling to let his order be destroyed, the priest pointed the staff down, the gem levitating directly in the assassin's face. A light emanated from the powerful stone and a blast of energy shot out of it, slamming in to Lucien's body with great force, not only destroying his grip but sending him down the abyss.

The last thing that Lucien heard before his mind slipped into darkness was the cynical laugh of Clavicus Vile.

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Complete darkness. This was all Lucien felt for quite a while, as he fell down the abyss, air rushing past his face. He didn't know how long he fell, as his mind was occupied with one thought: stopping the dragon priest, who now threatens the existence of the Dark Brotherhood.

It felt like hours, maybe even days, but eventually Lucien's body final stopped, smashing into a pool of water. Pain overcame his senses, but by using nothing more than his willpower, he was able to make his body move and swim up. He quickly ascended to the top and found a place to grab hold of, pulling himself up.

The assassin fell onto the rocky floor, lying motionless, gasping for breath. It was dark, and this was a good chance to let his eyes adjust to the light. After several minutes, Lucien was able to roll over and push himself up, despite his aching body.

Now that he up and his minding working at a suitable level once again, Lucien was able to get the basic details of the area down. It was a simple cavern, seeming to reach out for miles in a rocky path. Without any other options, the assassin stumbled and staggered through the path.

...

Shadowmere had felt something wrong and went to go investigate. Its' stealth skills as good as any assassin's. The horse clopped gently up to the ruins, staying within the shadows of the trees. Its' red eyes piercing through the shadows and distance, instantly seeing the doors to the tomb open up, dragon priest floating out. Shadowmere's ears pricked up as it ran off, going to search for its' stealthy companion.

...

Light hit Lucien's eyes like a hammer, blinding him for several seconds. He squinted to reduce the amount of light that entered his pupils. Once he could see again, the assassin observed the surrounding area. There was a river running under the platform he was standing on, which is probably where the mass of water that saved his life was coming from.

Those things really didn't concern Lucien at the moment, for he had to find the rogue dragon priest and somehow kill it. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. There was nothing that he could do with the state he was in. He would have to find someone who could heal him, or atleast obtain a potion.

He went to the right of the platform and slowly stepped down, onto the soft grass that lay right next to the river. He made sure to make some distance from the river so there was no way to fall in, but stayed close enough in case he needed to be rehydrated.

He stumbled on, following the river, having no idea what he would do. Common sense nor sense of direction was with him at the moment, so he could neither remember that he had traveled from Riften nor in what direction that it lie.

_Damn that Daedra! I swear I'll take the tainted blood from his cold dead body someday._ He continued stumbling along the river, taking no notice of the jumping fish only several feet away. Lucien's ear twitched as he heard something growling nearby. He turned to try and find the source and, unfortunately, he did. What crawled out of the nearby cluster of trees was covered in green fur, with two long powerful arms. A troll.

Lucien, even though he knew it was hopeless to fight in his current condition, drew his knife and took position. He began to relax his body and start breathing, needing absolute control over his body if he had any hope of winning. The troll seemed to be suddenly irritated and swung it's arms around in the air. It did this for only a minute, as in the next minute the furry creature charged.

Even though his body was screaming in pain, Lucien rolled under one of the troll's sweeping arms, slicing the back of the beast's leg with his dagger. As expected, it didn't seem to affect the troll whatsoever. Before the assassin could regain his footing the troll did another sweeping attack, which slammed right into Lucien's side, knocking him into the ground.

His vision blurry and body numb, Lucien could barely move. But before he could even get up, the troll began smashing it's powerful arms into the immobilized assassin's limbs. He tried blocking by putting his arms up, but it didn't help.

With it's prey down the troll screamed right before going down to feast on his 'meal'. Lucien, expecting his end, was surprised when he heard the troll shriek in pain. He opened his eyes to see an arrow imbedded in it's shoulder, starting to burn it. Instead of charging at the archer, the troll ran off out of sight, wanting to get away from what caused it pain.

Lucien's body relaxed and his vision was going black. The last thing he saw was Shadowmere, it's red eyes staring down at him and an Argonian with greenish-red skin and wearing a black hood and tights with sections of red. He was holding a bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows was strapped onto his back. The assassin fell unconscious, no longer able to deal with the pain.

...

Straining his eyes, Lucien sat up and took note of his surroundings. It was a little cabin, made of wooden boards, with a simple oaken door. There was a place in the middle of the house where the boards had been carved out and a pile of burning wood was lying on bare dirt. There was one table, chair, bookshelf and bed, which he was lying on. He noticed a bow and a quiver of arrows leaning on the wall next to the door and trees visible through the small window opposite of the door.

Hearing the door open, Lucien turned to see the Argonian walking in, his hood lying comfortably on his shoulders. There were four small horns on the top of the Argonian's head and a scar right under his left eye. "I see that you're awake, my brother." The lizard's voice was just like all other male Argonian voices, the vowels slithering out of the lipless mouth like when a snake hisses.

Lucien adjusted himself, to where his legs were draped over the side of the bed-frame. "You address me as 'brother', yet we have no known relation." Lucien stated coldly. Even though the Argonian had supposedly saved him, he couldn't trust someone he hadn't met before.

The Argonian let a chuckle escape from his lipless mouth. "You do not trust who you have not met. That is wise in unfamiliar territory." Lucien noticed now, as the Argonian closed the door, that he was carrying a bucket of water. He walked over to the table and set the bucket down, pulling out two cups and filling them with water.

"You suggest that I am not from Skyrim." The assassin replied, taking one of the cups as the Argonian walked over to him and handed it to him.

"There is no such need for suggesting when I _know_ that you reside in Cyrodil. Or are you just impersonating a member of the Black Hand?" The Argonian sipped from the cup, not even seeming to notice the look of suspicion that Lucien gave it.

"I am as real a member of the family as you, if not more so." The Imperial stated, final deciding that the water was safe to drink.

The Argonian chuckled yet again, "Now _you_ suggest that _I_ am not a member of our family." He finished the water and put the cup back on the table. "Now, I suppose that either you are lost, or were given a special contract. Whichever it is, it does not concern me. I have fed and watered your horse, a marvelous creature, if I might say so, and have taken care of your injuries. You may take leave at the time that best suits you."

Lucien sighed, "Unfortunately, even with my contract complete, I cannot leave yet."

The Argonian turned and eyed Lucien with varying suspicion. "Now this, I must here the reason for."

"I believe that I have let out something that threatens to destroy the brotherhood. Nay, much of Skyrim."

The Argonian pulled the chair from the table out and moved it closer to the bed, then took a seat. "Tell your story, so that I may deem it as needed."

With that, Lucien retold his story so far. From the time he was given his contract, to the days of travel, to his time in Riften, to the death of Hodlin, his dealing with Clavicus Vile and of the Dragon Priest. He wrapped it up with what he remembered of the fall and of the dealing with the troll.

The Argonian nodded, "I see." He stood up and moved to the door, slinging the quiver of arrows to his back and picking up his bow. He walked back over to Lucien. "If what you say is true, then we must move. Though I doubt this priest is as much of a threat as you deem it to be, it is still within our best interest to deal with it as quickly as possible. I do not wish to enlist the help of our brothers and sisters, for they have their work. So I shall assist you in this matter."

Lucien stood up, "The help will be most appreciated, for I doubt that I can take down such a powerful being with a knife."

The Argonian nodded, "I understand. Firstly, we shall go seek you a new weapon. One less…_fragile_. But before that, I believe introductions are in order. For I do not wish to work with someone I do not know the identity of."

The assassin nodded, "Very well. You may address me as Lucien Lachance. And what would the name of my new companion be?"

"Lucien Lachance, a name that bleeds with the mark of the shadows. Ram-Kur is the name that I go by."

Lucien nodded, "Very well, Ram-Kur, I look forward to serving the shadows with you."

Ram-Kur nodded, "Indeed. Now let us go and get what we need. Then we shall track down this priest and send it to Sithis." He turned around and they both headed for the door, Lucien laying his empty cup on the table as they passed it.

Ram-Kur opened the door and walked outside, Lucien following right behind. To their right stood Shadowmere and a white horse. "By the way, what would the name of your steed be?" The Argonian asked.

"Shadowmere." Lucien stated. "May I inquire the name of yours?"

Ram-Kur nodded, "Fitting. Mine would be Snowfoot. I believe the name is worthy of the steed."

"As do I." Lucien replied, walking over to his black companion and mounting him, Ram-Kur doing the same with his own horse.

The Argonian pointed away from the house, in the direction of the falling sun. "We ride south, for that is where Windhelm lies. A sword worthy of your using shall be easily acquired there." He slipped his hood back over his scaly head and road off, Shadowmere easily keeping pace with the snow-colored steed.

The road to Windhelm was a silent one for the two assassins.

To be continued…

* * *

**'Snowfoot' is derived from the name 'Snowmane' which is the name of King Theoden's horse in Lord of the Rings. I did this because 'Shadowmere' is derived from 'Shadowfax' which is the name of Gandalf's horse.**

**Also, I apologize if the writing style changes too much near the end. I wrote the second half of this chapter after an hour of reading Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.  
**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The road to Windhelm was quiet and uneventful for the two assassins, taking several hours to reach their destination. The moons were high up in the sky, shining down on the two hooded figures, their steeds clopping softly in the snow. Lucien glanced around, not used to having to deal with all the snow and the blazing winds. Ram-Kur, on the other hand, stared straight, using his ears to listen for anything that could harm the two.

The Imperial turned to the Argonian, "I can't see anything past the snow. How do you know when an enemy is about?" He continued glancing around once again.

A chuckle slithered from the Argonian's mouth, "Our eyes are sharp, but useless in this blanket of white, yet I do not use my eyes, for I have ears in which to listen with. This would be a useful skill for you to learn if we are to track down something as powerful as a Priest of Dragons."

Lucien nodded, "I see. You make your ears sharper than your eyes. That is something quite useful. My ears are sharp, but I am unaccustomed to these blazing winds and blanketed skies."

"For now, you should just keep quiet and on watch. Perhaps there is something too stealthy for me to hear, yet you may see it approaching. Not a likely scenario, but a possible one. Once we have decided on a place to rest I shall try and help your senses adjust to Skyrim's environment."

"Very well, I shall keep quiet, as an assassin should." He didn't speak another word for the duration of their trip, but he still kept watch, glancing and slightly turning his head to further the reach of his sight.

...

Windhelm was now in the assassins' sights. They left Shadowmere and Snowfoot at the stables, their soft leather boots making light prints in the snow, as they walked down the walkway to the wall-encased city. The guards let them pass without a single word spoken, not really seeming to care about the two assassins. They walked through the large gates, closing with a large _clank_ behind them.

Ram-Kur hissed, "I do not like the scent of this town. It smells too much of Nord." He looked at Lucien and pointed down the left of the town. "There's a smithy down that way of the town," Then he pointed to the right, "And an enchanter down that path. Pick a weapon you're comfortable with and get a suitable enchantment for it. We'll meet over in the Jumping Crab before we depart."

Lucien was now curious, "It sounds as though you'll be off somewhere else. What shall you be doing?"

Ram-Kur hissed, "I will be around, gathering information. No point in going out into the world if we don't know where our target lies. Be quick in your search for a weapon, as I will be in my search for information. I wish to depart from this Nord-infested skeever-hole."

"You're disgusted by Nords?" Lucien chuckled, "Must be a constant pain, since you live in the livestock of Nordic towns and tombs. Very well, I shall be quick as I can." Lucien walked off for where Ram-Kur said the smithy would be, while Ram-Kur disappeared into the masses.

...

The small circular area had more than just the smithy and his assistant. It also had someone selling fresh fruit from who-knows-where, buildings for an alchemy shop and a general store as well as several guards posted in the area.

The smithy was a strong-looking Nord, though any Nord would look like that, with long golden hair, tied back out of his face, wearing a normal blacksmith's apron. His eyes were that of a powerful ocean blue that showed years of experiences and tragedies. He had a scar across his nose and several on his hairy arms. His teeth were clenched as he smashed his hammer onto the steel, never losing his concentration.

The assistant was a young Imperial girl, no younger than seventeen. She was well defined, for someone her age, and stood proudly as she hefted the ore into the smelter. Her hair was as black as shadows and long enough to reach the bottom of her back. Like her master, her hair was tied back out of her face. Her teeth were clattering from the cold, and her arms were shaking, even though she wore heavy wool over her entire body, excluding her face. Her eyes were of a pale brown, yet they reflected the strength of earth and held flaring passion for her work. No scars were visible on her pale and smooth skin, yet the tips of her bangs seemed to be a bit burned.

Lucien passed the smelter and the girl, with no acknowledgment whatsoever. He stepped up to the Nord, who stopped what he was doing and looked up. "Can I help you?" His voice was rough and held no mercy or compassion.

The assassin took off his hood before speaking, "I require a powerful, yet light blade, for I am hunting a very dangerous creature." He didn't think that he needed to add that last part, but people tended to trust people more when they had a better idea of what they were up to.

The Nord cocked his head, "What kind of creature is so fierce that you need such a blade?" Lucien made no response, which ended up with the two hardened men staring eachother down.

The assistant suddenly stopped her work and looked up, seeing the two men staring at eachother with death glares. She looked back at the two nervously, hoping that a fight didn't break out.

Suddenly the smithy burst out laughing, "Alright, alright, I understand. I'll make a blade so sharp that even a Troll's hide can't slow it down." He turned to his assistant, "Ladia, pick up the pace, we've got an order worth a Troll's head!" The girl said nothing, but she let a sigh escape her lips before she began putting more ore into the smelter, this time faster than before. The smithy turned back to the assassin, "Just sit tight, it'll be ready by tomorrow. And when your blade is finished, you can go tell all your family that it was made by Ignar and his assistant Ladia Rulician." He got to work immediately, beginning to hammer on the piece of steel with even more enthusiasm than before.

Lucien bowed his head in thanks; even assassins have manners. He slipped his cowl back over his head and walked off towards the Jumping Crab, shaking off the snow that had covered his robe as he walked.

...

Lucien found the inn quite quickly, as it was on the opposite side of the two large gates. He entered quietly, going unnoticed by the patrons. Well, unnoticed except by the owner and Ram-Kur, who was sitting quietly at a table, drinking a cup of Nordic ale. He hissed at Lucien, calling him over.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at the ale, "Nordic ale? Didn't think that you'd like the stuff residing in, what was it..._Nord-Infested skeever-hole_?" He sat down at the table, leaning on his arms, which were propped on the wooden surface.

The Argonian hissed, "They may be stupid and savage brutes, but Nords _do_ know how to make good ale." He took another large gulp, finishing off his mug, before calling over the owner for another glass. "I know we were supposed to depart, but I couldn't stand the smell of this place, so I had a couple of mugs to calm myself."

Lucien chuckled, "Well the smithy, Ignar, seems to be making a custom blade, for I stated that I was to hunt a powerful creature. It will be done by morning. So we'll catch some food and drink here, before resting, and we can go fetch my blade in the morning."

Ram-Kur took the next mug that was given to him and raised it in the air, "Now that's my kind of plan!" He took a large gulp of his drink before putting the mug down. "Unfortunately, my job was not so successful. Now, while there are rumors of strange creatures all over this accursed city, a levitating dead man with a staff isn't one of them. I suppose we should go to the tomb he came out of and try to pick up his trail, once you've got a decent weapon, of course."

The Imperial assassin chuckled, "Of course. For now though, I think it best for you to cool your head and regain your senses before leaving this _skeever-hole_."

The Argonian hissed yet again, "Hush your tongue! These Nords are stupid, not deaf. I will not fight because you repeat an off-hand comment I made when I had my senses." He picked up his mug and took another large chug of ale. "Now order some food, so that we can eat. I do not have the sense to order anything worthy of an Argonian, such as myself."

Lucien sighed. The rest of his night was spent with food, drink and an Argonian who had drank too much ale for his own good, almost getting into three fights with several Nords. Once paying for their beds, Ram-Kur fell like a stone, while Lucien slept little, his troubles causing him to stay out of the world of dreams.

...

Lucien woke to the smell of fresh-cooked bread, which wafted through the air with a scent that the assassin was unaccustomed to. He forced himself out of his soft woolen blankets and down the wooden steps. He was only another person added to the crowd of people who apparently came every early morning for this wondrous bread.

He sat down at the last free table and called for the owner, getting two loaves of bread. He decided to eat one now, and wrap the second one in cloth and store it in his bag. He nibbled on the loaf, deciding that butter would make it even better. With one layer of it, the bread turned from delicious into paradise. It seemed to melt on his tongue with a mysterious flavor that he had never tasted before. He didn't linger on it long though, as he had a weapon to pick up, hopefully before his drunken companion wakes. He got up and slipped out of the inn, making eye contact with no one.

His footsteps crunched on the new layers of snow outside, as he took long strides to the smithy. He took only a minute to reach his destination, and saw Ignar wrapping leather around the hilt of his newly-crafted sword. It was beautifully crafted, with a thin yet sturdy design. The blade was sharpened to the tiniest detail and was slightly longer than the average sword.

Looking over, Lucien saw the assistant working on the swords' sheathe, strapping leather together for the specially-crafted weapon. Every one of her movements was focused on making the leather holder as perfect as she could make it, her eyes peering down into the smallest details.

The assassin stood over by the opening of the stairs, leaning on the wall for several minutes, until they finished. It took no more than seven or eight minutes for the girl to finish, yet the smithy had finished only a minute after Lucien had arrived.

When Ignar had sheathed the weapon, making sure it was loose, the assassin walked down the stairs and over to the blacksmith. "That's quite a fine blade that you've crafted there, Ignar." He stated.

Ignar turned, a prideful smile covering his features. "Aye and it's now yours." He held the sword out to the Imperial, who took it, slowly drawing it to see the detail for himself. After examining it for a minute, he sheathed it and smirked, handing seven-hundred pieces of gold to the smithy. "Hope that's enough."

Ignar chuckled, "A true man makes a blade so that a man can protect himself, and worries about the money when the man had returned from the hunt. Though yes, this will due quite well. I wish you luck on your hunt."

Lucien strapped the sword to his belt, having to adjust the dagger over a little, for a more comfortable fit. "As do I, for it is quite the creature. Now to you, Ignar, I wish luck upon all of your endeavors." The assassin walked off.

"What do you suppose he's hunting, Ignar?" The girl, Ladia Rulician, finally spoke. Her voice was soft yet strong as any Nord.

The smith chuckled, "Something worthy of legends, I would guess. The look of his eyes showed that he was putting everything on the line, for this…_creature_. Aye, he may think me a fool who doesn't realize the comings and goings of this world, but I knew from the moment my eyes lied upon his form, what he was."

"What do you mean?" The girl was very confused by her teacher's words. But, instead of an answer, Ignar simply laughed, telling her that she would one day understand, and then to get back to work.

...

Lucien from the smithy went to get Ram-Kur, deciding that the weapon didn't need an enchantment, and that it would only get in the way of the blade itself. Once awoken, Ram-Kur realized that he had drank more than what he could handle, his head feeling like it would explode from interior pressure. After eating some of the delicious bread, they headed for the stables.

"I see that you got your blade." The Argonian noted.

Lucien nodded, "And a fine blade it is. I feel filled with confidence now that I have a blade of such fine design. Now, shall we go back to the tomb, and hope that any prints aren't covered in snow?" Ram-Kur nodded as they reached their steeds.

The two horses neighed at their approaching companions, and clopped off quickly, yet softly, as the assassins mounted. Lucien entered Windhelm full of dread and anxiety, but left full of confidence and expectancy. They rode off as they had when they had approached the town, Lucien keeping visual watch while Ram-Kur kept auditory, his mind cloudy, yet his ears still sharp.

With great speed the two rode off towards the tomb that had started off this whole mess of events.

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Passing through the lands of snow into the sunny and dry forestation, the two horses clopped steadily over the wet grass, their coats bathed in sunlight. Shadowmere neighed as the party approached the ruins.

Ram-Kur let out the equivalent of a whistled at the sight of what remained. The ruins had been toppled over, seeming to have caved-in. "Well, whatever doubt I had for your story has just disappeared." The Argonian stated.

Without a word, Lucien reined Shadowmere down the hill that overlooked the ruins, wanting a closer look at what – if anything – remained. He had his steed wait over by the edge of the forest, hidden within the shadows of a clustering of trees. After descending from his spot on Shadowmere, he walked over to the caved-in ruins, the door the only thing still standing, barely.

The door was cracked and shattered in several places, and the top-right corner was gone, as if smashed off by falling debris. Several other pieces of the door were chipped off, lying scattered around the stone platform that the door now stood on.

Lucien reached his hand out, his fingers barely making contact with the stone entrance, and toppled it. The large frame seemed to just break apart into several large pieces, smashing into the ground and crushing other pieces of rubble.

Lucien stared at the rubble in silence, Ram-Kur walking up behind him, having reined Snowfoot over by Shadowmere. "This really doesn't help our situation." The Argonian stated. "You said it levitates, so that means that there aren't going to be any footprints, and I don't see any signs of a spell having been cast."

Lucien sighed, "Which means that we don't have any idea of which direction it went." The assassin's fists tightened to where his knuckles went white. "We need to start searching the area for any signs that the priest might've left."

Ram-Kur sighed, "Very well. Where do you think we should start?" The Argonian rubbed the back of his neck, trying to keep himself calm.

Lucien walked over to Shadowmere and mounted. "I'll take Shadowmere and have a look at the surrounding area, to see if it left any nearby sign of his direction." Without waiting for an answer from the Argonian, Lucien rode off, a stern look plastered on his face.

...

After an hour of searching, Lucien had found nothing. He gritted his teeth, trying to calm himself. This was possibly the worst screw up of his life, having potentially ended the Dark Brotherhood. He spotted Ram-Kur waiting by the front of the ruins, examining the ruins.

The Argonian stood as the Imperial came ever closer. He stared the other assassin in the eyes and hissed, "Lucien, I had a thought."

Lucien's brow furrowed at the statement. "Well, speak quickly then."

The Argonian hissed yet again, "It's just that, the priest read _your_ mind, right?"

"That's correct." The assassin did not see where this conversation was heading, but if his mind was clear, he might've.

"Well, if the priest read _your_ mind, he would only know what you know. And, if I'm not mistaken, you have little knowledge of Skyrim. You haven no information of any Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary's…except of your own."

The point struck home with Lucien, all anger having been cleared from his mind, hence realizing this fact. If he only knew the one sanctuary, and had only traveled in a small part of Skyrim, that means that the Priest would only know of the way he traveled, and of the one sanctuary he knew of…his…which lye within Cheydinhal, which lay out of the lands of Skyrim and into the lands of Cyrodil. Lucien stared at the Argonian, wide-eyed, in sudden realization. _The priest will be heading for Cheydinhal, most likely on the road that _I _had taken._ "We must head for Cheydinhal immediately!"

The Argonian sighed, "I'm afraid I cannot leave the lands of Skyrim. I will go as far as the borders, and if we do not meet him by the time we reach them, I can be of no further use in your quest."

Lucien nodded, "I understand. Though, if that be the case, then that reason is all you'll need to ride all the swifter. Mount Snowfoot and let us be off. We will take as close a road as I had when I entered, to heighten out chances of meeting the priest."

The Argonian nodded, running over to Snowfoot and mounting, quickly following after Lucien, mounted on Shadowmere, as he rode smoothly and swiftly towards his road of entrance into the snowing lands of Skyrim.

...

Passing the forests, and the shacks, running parallel to the river, the two assassins ran at the speed of wind, crossing miles of the snowy lands in mere hours, their steeds never stopping to take a rest, never needing one.

The sun went by and the moons rose, when they spotted something very peculiar…yet encouraging to their search. In the road lay several bandits, no less than seven, not a touch of blood on their bodies, but their breathing nonexistent. The corpses were in bad shape, broken bones and bruises. Only now that they were close did the assassins notice that three of the bandit's mouths were trimmed with blood, having poured out through the throat, indicating internal bleeding.

Lucien assumed that this was the priest's doing, having used the staff that Lucien had had only a glimpse of. From what the Imperial had experienced, it shot out waves of energy, which is probably what kept the coffin from opening. It must have stopped whence someone new had made contact with it and disrupted the flow of magical energy within.

They took only a brief pause to examine the situation, neither dismounting. After seconds they were satisfied with the scene and quickly rode off, not wanting to lose their prey, while the newly-found trail was still fresh.

They were closing in on the priest, and they wouldn't miss their chance to finish off what sought to kill off their kind.

To be continued…

* * *

**I apologize for such a short chapter. I plan on finishing this up soon, and it didn't seem like more was needed for this part.  
**


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Animals hid within trees, the presence of the priest apparently having forced them to shrink away, their instincts telling them how terrifying this creature truly was. It floated above Nirn, several inches above the ground. The priest held a staff with a floating crystal in its right hand, with a grip of iron.

With a terrifying gaze, the mysterious creature never looked away from its path towards Cyrodil. Only when the sound of speeding horses approach did the priest stop, and turn around. Even though it made no kind of physical movement, the creature was preparing itself.

...

It had been a long and weary trip, but the assassins were finally within sight of their target. They slowed and eventually stopped, as they saw the priest stop and turn around to face them. They dismounted from their steeds and stepped forward, drawing their weapons. Ram-Kur with bow in hand and an arrow knocked on the string, while Lucien held his new sword in his right hand and his trusty dagger in his left.

The priest's eyes began to glow, an eerie and depressed blue. It lifted the staff, the crystal beginning to shine with the same sadness within that shone in the creature's eyes. The expected action was an attack, but the assassins were surprised as dark energy wrapped around them. They lost all sight of their current location, appearing in a dark cave, as the energy dissipated.

The cavernous walls were engraved with runes, a dull glowing of various colors emanating from them. The priest raised its arms, and the energy from the runes seemed to be sucked into the crystal gently floating above the staff. The crystal turned from the dull, oceanic-blue to a black as dark as the night.

The assassins had been speechless from the actions that were quickly and progressively becoming more confusing and, supposedly, dangerous. When the priest lowered its arms, the crystal had become completely black, the magicka seeping from the large stone, electricity seeming to crackle and sizzle around the entire staff.

Ram-Kur drew the arrow back, readying to shoot. As the Argonian's finger departed from the arrow, the bow reverberated and the steel-tipped projectile went straight for the priest's head.

The priest didn't move, yet the staff let out a vibration that shot the arrow upward, lodging the arrow into the cavernous ceiling. Sparks flew from the arrow, Ram-Kur's bow having enchanted it with fire. Before the Argonian was able to get off another shot, the priest shot off a powerful blast of pure magicka from the crystal, flinging it directly at the Argonian.

Taken by surprise, the Argonian could do nothing as the ball of corrupted magicka catapulted into him, knocking the bow out of his hand and leaving him writhing on the ground, the front of his leathery suit sizzling and crackling.

Lucien rolled out of the way as the priest shot another ball of energy at him. He sprinted right at his foe, showing no concern for the Argonian. _His body is still moving, which means he's still alive. When and if I can kill this thing, then I'll take care of his injuries._ He rolled as another ball of magicka was shot directly at his head. Without hesitation, he swung his newly-acquired sword, aiming directly for the priest's neck.

The sword never made contact, as a powerful vibrating reverberated from the creature's staff, launching Lucien backwards, his body slamming heavily into the ground, making it all the more painful as rocks stabbed him through his attire.

The assassin struggled to his feet, sword and dagger still in hand. He spit out a bit of blood that had made its way to his mouth. He began taking cautious steps to the right, just in case another ball of magicka was catapulted at him.

Before another move was made, Lucien saw an arrow fly past his head, heading for the priest. But another vibration from the staff sent it flying into the ceiling, several inches from the second one.

The assassin turned around to see his 'brother' kneeling on the ground, gasping for breath, slowly knocking another arrow to his bow. The Argonian gave a quick, but clear glance. The objective was simple: _Lucien was to attack while Ram-Kur distracted the priest._ With a quick nod, Lucien charged, pulling his arm back, while Ram-Kur shot another arrow, always aiming for a different body part.

The priest never moved, but vibrations continuously shot out of the staff, redirecting the arrows into the ceiling, more and more of the projectiles gathering in the ceiling. Lucien charged, knowing that the Argonian was most likely running out of arrows. This was far from a perfect or even decent plan, but it was all they had.

Lucien jumped to the right as a ball of magicka shot towards him, never losing his momentum. Once this happened, he noticed two things; the glow of the staff's crystal was dimming and that the next arrow Ram-Kur shot forward hit. It made contact directly in the priest's leg, the tip of the arrow sparking and then igniting the dead flesh. But, the fire quickly died down, as the priest used a vibration to knock the flame and arrow out of its body.

Lucien came in quickly, this time thrusting the blade forward, aiming for the dragon priest's chest. The priest released another vibration but, for some reason, it didn't work. The assassin's blade pierced right through the vibration, feeling little resistance. The sword went right through the priest's chest, impaling the ancient body.

The assassin was surprised that the tactic actually worked, but was even more surprised at the staff's current condition. The crystal had become very dull, no color whatsoever. It was just…clear. It had fallen and impaled itself into the top of the staff.

Lucien now understood; no matter what, it was still a staff that used the power of souls, and it had run out of charge. Before the priest could do anything, Lucien turned the blade and sliced. No blood was shed, as any blood that had existed within the priest's body was all but gone.

The assassin didn't get to celebrate for long, as the priest raised the staff and magicka was then absorbed back into the crystal, the runes on the walls losing any kind of existing glow. Another powerful vibration was shot out of the crystal, this time launching both Lucien and Ram-Kur. The Imperial smashed into the middle of the room, his grip on his sword lessened, the blade falling out of his hand. The Argonian had been smashed right into a wall, his arrowless quiver softening the blow.

Lucien opened his eyes to see the dragon priest standing over him, finally having moved from his position. He pointed the staff directly at the assassin, magicka gathering at the tip. Knowing what would happen, Lucien made one final attempt. He launched his left arm back and quickly extended it, launching his dagger at the priest's head.

Without much trouble, the priest cocked its head to the side, the dagger barely nicking its shoulder and flying into the ceiling. The steel had been lodged into a crack that had been formed from all of the gathered projectiles. The impact had sent a shockwave through the ceiling, releasing the arrows and the dagger quickly falling down with them.

Lucien barely registered what happened next; the arrows impaled the priest, lighting the dead body completely on fire. And, unlike last time, the dagger had hit the crystal floating above the staff, the force of the impact knocking the crystal into the ground, completely stopping the attack and any means of quelling the flames.

The priest began shrieking, finally realizing that its end had finally come. It stared down at Lucien, its eyes glowing with a burning blue.

The assassins vision went black as his mind was filled with images; The Cheydinhal sanctuary, filled with his dead 'brothers' and 'sisters'. Several more members of his 'family' spread all across Cyrodil, now nothing but corpses. The highest ranking members of the 'family' surrounding an unidentifiable hanging corpse, blood covering the wooden floor. They handed the corpses robe to another member of the dark brotherhood.

Quickly, the assassin's vision returned and the images dissipated. When his vision returned he saw the burning corpse of the dragon priest. His mind was wracked with questions that he could never have answered. Why was his 'home' full of corpses? Who was the corpse whose robe had been handed off to another member of the Dark Brotherhood?

Not able to come up with a reasonable answer, Lucien decided that it meant nothing and that it was just implanted in his mind to scare him. Without another thought, the assassin turned around to go check on Ram-Kur, but as he did, dark energy surrounded them both. When it disappeared, he was where he least expected himself to be: the Cheydinhal Sanctuary.

"Well done, brother." Lucien turned around to see Vicente Valtieri relaxing in a chair, a glass in his hand full of what he guessed to be blood. "You completed your task very well."

Lucien could only stare in disbelief, "What-?" As he spoke Vicente interrupted.

"Do not worry; Ram-Kur and his horse, Snowfoot have been safely returned to their sanctuary, and Shadowmere is awaiting you at the stables." He raised his hand, holding a large crystal, which after a moment of staring, Lucien identified it: it was the crystal that had floated above the Dragon Priest's staff.

"Why-?" Lucien was interrupted yet again.

"Did you honestly think that we would send you all the way to Skyrim if it was for a simple assassination job? The Dark Brotherhood wanted this for…well, that's not important." The vampire stashed the crystal within a safe box on the small table to right before waving his hand. "Lucien Lachance, assassin of the Dark Brotherhood. You have completed the jobs that were tasked to you both knowingly and unknowingly. And, as promised, your deeds shall be rewarded." With those words, Lucien was yet again teleported.

To be continued…

* * *

**Alright, I think we're just about done here...**


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

What the assassin saw when he appeared on the other side of the portal was darkness. Not complete though, as there was a small sliver of light coming from and unidentified source. Suddenly, several torches were alit; revealing several people, black robes covering their features, and black hoods drawn over their faces.

One of them stepped up, the obvious curves showing that it was a woman. "Welcome, Lucien Lachance. We have awaited your arrival." Her voice was smooth, but did not calm the assassin. He now knew that something was up, but couldn't identify exactly what it was.

Before Lucien could speak, the woman continued. "You have executed your job very well. You have killed your target and destroyed what sought to destroy us, bringing about an object of great worth to us. For this, you deserve to be rewarded."

Lucien shook his, "The priest only set out to destroy us, because I was the first thing it encountered."

The woman cocked her head, "You do not fully understand the priest's past do you?" The woman chuckled, "Very well. Then let me tell you." She took a deep breath before beginning. "The Dark Brotherhood framed him."

Lucien's ear twitched at the statement. "What?"

The woman nodded, "One of our brothers had assassinated a dragon priest, someone who had incredible power as a priest. But he was found out by another one, who went by the name of Godrel. He discovered our brother but before being called out, our brother used a paralyzing spell on him, and dragged him into the room, putting a knife into his hand. When he was able to move again, our brother had disguised himself and fetched a group of priests. They got there just as the paralysis wore off and saw him standing by the dead priest with a knife in his hand. So they decided to punish him. He screamed how it was the Dark Brotherhood and not him, but they didn't believe. They sealed him up, probably with the hatred of the Dark Brotherhood infecting his heart."

Lucien nodded, "I see."

The woman stepped forward, "Now with that out of the way, I hope you can fully appreciate the work that you have done and the reward that you will receive." The assassin simply nodded.

"Then without further waiting, I believe it is time to begin." She stepped back into the circle of robed figures.

"_Lucien Lachance, assassin of the Dark Brotherhood. Hand of Sithis, Shield of the Night Mother." _The circle of assassins chanted. _"For your deeds, your dealings, your loyalty and allegiance, we grant you the title of Speaker."_ There was no question, no hesitation. Lucien accepted without delay, giving no indication but a nod. _"Then with your new seat acquired, we grant you your new duties."_ The torches went out, the meeting ended. They all left through the crack of light, which opened up to reveal the city of Bravil. Without another word, they all disappeared into the shadows, going back to their duties, and Lucien starting his own.

-Years Later-

The assassin had done his job for years, never having a problem. But, as he stood over the sleeping body, he couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity. The person he had been assigned to recruit this time had something odd about them. They felt important somehow.

The murderer stirred, slowly getting up. They didn't have much time to adjust to their surrounding when Lucien began to speak.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer." The person turned around and stared at the Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood. There was no fear, only curiosity. Their eyes showed that this person had been within death's reach countless times. They were prepared for death, for killing. To destroy everything and everyone who stood in their path.

Lucien knew for a fact, that this person would change the course of the Dark Brotherhood.

The End

* * *

**I know, kind of a crappy ending, but I ran out of ideas. So, anyway, I was thinking of doing a sequel to this, with Astrid or Cicero two hundred years in the future, where the true use of the stone is found out. What do you think?**

**Oh, and also, please tell me how I did with this story.  
**


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